The Theft and Vandalism Were Our Own

Divine was born sixty-six years ago today. There's a reason I give all praise and awe to Serendipity, Serendipity again providing the perfect trope for the particular day, plus I'm busy, burned-out, stuff to do before tonight's game - the ticket is still available (game is at 800, not 730, btw, and you must let me know by 200) - so for today just links, poem, music, and this:

• Walmart Derangement Syndrome. Look for updates and follow-ups. 
• Blogging is a system of control. You've no idea how much I repress the urge to bleggalgaze on a minute by minute basis. This second.
• Baby, we're all anarchists now.
• The strange success of Occupy.
• Noam Chomsky, anarchist, on the impossibility of anarchism.
• The guy in blue.
• The World's Second Shittiest Human is grateful for Occupy.
• The World's Second Shittiest Human is grateful for Occupy.
• On the above.
• The Roman rigor of Obama's death squads.
• Fight for the conch. 
• I'll bump plans with you, brother.  
• All right, two bits of bleggalgazing - both regarding additions to blegrells, logistical and regarding Kind, and.... fuck it. 
• Friday!
• Hey, I slept in Zanesville three nights three days ago! Coincidence? 
• Purple Line!
• Lit-links. 
• What makes a book great?
• New Mazzy Star in two weeks?
• Stone Roses reunite? 
• Why he doesn't hate Pink Floyd. My issue w/Floyd is you couldn't go to a party w/o hearing Dark Side of the Moon four times.
• The Kinks never worked for me, but if for you, have three hours.
• How about a Kristen Hersh live set?

A LOCKED HOUSE

W.D. Snodgrass

As we drove back, crossing the hill,

The house still

Hidden in the trees, I always thought—

A fool’s fear—that it might have caught   

Fire, someone could have broken in.   

As if things must have been

Too good here. Still, we always found   

It locked tight, safe and sound.

I mentioned that, once, as a joke;   

No doubt we spoke

Of the absurdity

To fear some dour god’s jealousy   

Of our good fortune. From the farm   

Next door, our neighbors saw no harm   

Came to the things we cared for here.   

What did we have to fear?

Maybe I should have thought: all

Such things rot, fall—

Barns, houses, furniture.

We two are stronger than we were

Apart; we’ve grown

Together. Everything we own

Can burn; we know what counts—some such   

Idea. We said as much.

We’d watched friends driven to betray;   

Felt that love drained away

Some self they need.

We’d said love, like a growth, can feed   

On hate we turn in and disguise;

We warned ourselves. That you might despise   

Me—hate all we both loved best—

None of us ever guessed.

The house still stands, locked, as it stood   

Untouched a good

Two years after you went.

Some things passed in the settlement;   

Some things slipped away. Enough’s left   

That I come back sometimes. The theft   

And vandalism were our own.

Maybe we should have known.